


Stuck In The Middle With You

by stereonightss



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Camp, Gen, Gift Fic, M/M, Pining, Shenanigans, occult nonsense, soul rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereonightss/pseuds/stereonightss
Summary: Ryou’s a Dungeon Master. Yuugi has Kaiba wrapped around his finger. Atem is pining—bad. What’s the worst that can happen?
Relationships: Flareshipping - Relationship, Rivalshipping, gemshipping - Relationship, prideshipping - Relationship, puppyshipping (indirect)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: Yu-Gi-Oh! It's Time to G-G-G-Gift! [Mini-Exchange]





	Stuck In The Middle With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millenniumchainsaw (Rikudera)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikudera/gifts).



> For the lovely Rikudera, for the 2019 It’s Time to G-g-g-gift Mini Exchange <3

It was a typical Sunday evening at the manor. They’d had dinner at a restaurant (incognito, with Yuugi’s recognizable hair shoved tight into a beanie and Seto’s trademark duster put away in favor of a white denim jacket) just outside Mokuba’s dorm at Domino U, gone for a walk along the pier (the east pier, not the north pier where Yuugi had fought Jounouchi so many years ago), and now they were ‘relaxing’ at home.

‘Relaxing,’ for Seto, meant working in his home office in loungewear, just off from the game room, while Yuugi sprawled on the white leather couch with drafts of character designs for an upcoming adventure RPG they were releasing later that year under a Kaibacorp subsidiary they called Rivalsoft. It was work after work, a passion project they created under pseudonyms so they could make something with complete creative control. It was the closest thing to a child they would ever have (‘Our baby!!’ Yuugi called it), and between the two of them, their enthusiasm could sustain them well into the early hours of the morning.

The sound of Seto’s mechanical keyboard grated on the both of them in the echoing quiet of the high-ceilinged room. So Yuugi, ever sensitive to Seto’s moods, decided to try once again to convince his surly partner to join their weekly tabletop game night.

“...and this campaign calls for travel over a mountain area, so we had to secure mounts.”

Yuugi shuffled through piles on piles of character sheets, sorting them into neat stacks on the coffee table.

“Jounouchi picked a felisog—“

“A what?” Kaiba said from his place at the console.

“Sort of like a saber cat but with a bigger load capacity since, you know, his character’s a tank.“

“How utterly unsurprising that he would ally himself with a low-intellect, high-belligerence class.”

Yuugi shook his head and smiled fondly and settled deeper into the plush couch. It was nice, the kind of easy domesticity they’d fallen into. It took a lot of work to get there. Neither one took well to losing _him_. It was work on work to stitch a bridge over the chasm that once was filled with Atem, but in the years since high school they piecemeal found a way.

“My knight rides a horse, obviously, and the tiny horse had armor, too, but like, the figures don’t come like that. He sculpted the armor piece by piece and then I think he baked it onto the figure with a brûlée torch—“

“Terrifying,” Seto said without looking up, fingers dancing over the keyboard, “that they let that boy play with fire.”

“—and then painted it with the tiniest brush I’ve ever seen, I mean, it had my character’s coat of arms painted on the side. He’s amazing, he really is. That’s like painting lettering on something the size of a kidney bean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seto said, scowling at the computer screen. “A Lima bean is a more accurate analog for size in this instance.”

Yuugi rolled his eyes and smiled. It was so easy to indulge Seto his grandiosity now that he’d seen the soft devotion that lay beneath it.

“Bakura doesn’t get a mount because his character’s a naga and they have high mobility—“

“He’s DMing and playing a character at the same time?” Seto scoffed.

“It’s hard to explain,” Yuugi said, sitting up. He padded over to Seto’s chair and draped himself over the back, chin tucked against Seto’s broad shoulder. “If you would just come and try it out you would see.”

He ran his hands down the solid plane of Seto’s chest and drank in the low, appreciative hum he got in return.

“The system he has for keeping it fair is so smart. So innovative. We could pick up a thing or two from him, I mean, his ideas are kind of crazy—“

“Because _he’s_ crazy.”

“But he thinks outside the box! And you _like_ that, I know you do.”

Seto steepled his fingers in front of his mouth to hide the smile that threatened to bloom there.

“You have a certain instinct about the things I like.”

“You’ll like this,” Yuugi murmured in his ear. “And if you can go the whole night without picking a fight with Jounouchi, I guarantee you’ll like what happens later.”

Seto tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his neck.

“Hmm. Appealing.”

Yuugi nuzzled at the sensitive skin at the pulse point.

“Well? You can be a dragon rider.”

Seto sighed, and by the relaxed drop of his shoulders Yuugi knew he’d won—so he wasn’t troubled when Seto, already compliant and soft under his hand, added gruffly:

“I’ll think about it.”

-

Atem leaned against the ragged trunk of a date palm on the shore of the river of souls, clad only in his sleeping kilt and ancestral gold. The cool desert night cloaked his dark skin in starlight, and the mournful cries of the frogs that swam between the reeds seemed to mirror his inconsolable heart.

“My king,” Mahad said, kneeling at his feet in the sand. “Do you need a hug tonight?”

Silence from the king, though the frogs seemed to wail even louder. Mahad pressed on.

”A drink? A new hobby perhaps?”

Atem turned from the crouched figure of his vizier, eyes distant and wine-dark in the lowlit night.

“You know what I need, old friend.”

Mahad stood with a grand sweep of his robes and cleared his throat.

“My beloved king. It’s been night for,” he peered up at the stars, “six months now. The people are getting restless.”

Atem made a dismissive sweep of his gold-laden hand. He stepped up to the glassy surface of the river, where by the sun god’s magic he could peer into the land of the living.

“If I could just see him again up close...”

”You know how dangerous that is.”

”...if I could talk to him and touch him just for a moment, I’d feel _so_ much better.”

“We’ve talked about this,” Mahad said, fist tightening around his scepter.

“If I saw him, I would burn again. Then, the people would have their sun back.”

“It’s dangerous, it could tear the fabric of reality if we tr—“

“Because _he_ is my sun,” Atem said. “He is my sun, and his lover my moon. My stars and skies, look at them.”

Mahad sighed. For the tenth time in as many days, he stood next to his god-king and looked down into the land of the living, into the bedroom of a certain reincarnated priest and the pharaoh’s fated vessel. He thanked his many gods that, at least this time, they were clothed.

“ _Look at them_ , Mahad.”

“I’m looking, old friend,” Mahad said. “Something tells me I don’t quite see what you see.”

“I should be there with them,” Atem said, very nearly pouting.

“You know you’ll have them for eternity if you can just wait, oh,” Mahad pinched the bridge of his nose, “about another fifty or so years.”

Atem made a terrible face of singular determination, the face that meant nothing Mahad said or did would ever move him from his goal.

“If I can wait fifty years for my sun, then the people can wait as long for theirs.”

The long-suffering vizier-mage took a deep breath and practiced the same measured exhale he often used when the young king was a living—and ungodly demanding—child.

“Well. I suppose we could use the dream bridge to—“

”The dream bridge! Of course,” Atem said. “I’ll just be down there for a little while, just long enough to see them. What could possibly go wrong?”

 _A lot_ , Mahad thought to himself. 

“I’ll prepare the ritual incense,” he said tightly.

Atem smiled, mauve eyes bright with a distant excitement.

“Thank you, Mahad. Thank you.”

In the distance, the predawn glow slipped purple and pink on the horizon.

-

Ryou’s house was an odd mix of cozy and kitsch with occult touches tucked between figurines and copious art supplies. Ouija boards and taxidermy bats shared shelves with diminutive duel monster plushes and a huge collection of American pop music (with a focus on mid 90’s boy bands). It was cramped in comparison to the manor, but it was palatial in comparison to Jounouchi’s, and anyway, it had the game table.

“...you peer through the trees, where you see a little hut covered in moss. As you draw close, it crackles with the electricity of magical wards...”

Ryou’s voice was hypnotic, mellow and low as he talked them through the scenery, damp green summer forests in a charged, living land full of magic. Jounouchi’s eyelids grew heavy and slipped once, twice, then finally closed. Yuugi’s bright violet eyes went glassy and dazed, and the icy steel of Kaiba’s gaze stared at some point far, far away, lost in the act of imagining.

The hum started low, the soft ring of a distant bell, and grew and grew by increments so small that it drowned out Ryou’s voice entirely by the time they noticed. The sunburst shine of light that painted them all gold went unseen, because by a turn of Mahad’s scepter, the four of them were lost in a dream.

Jounouchi, bare-chested with a tiger’s pelt hung around his waist, stumbled to a stop on the root-gnarled path in the lush green forest. Before them lay a mossy clearing with a strange blue pod in the center.

“For cryin out loud, my head,” Jounouchi said, raking a rune-tattooed hand through his hair. “Wh-what the hell is that?”

Yuugi overbalanced in his light leather armor and fell into the leaf-covered undergrowth.

“It uh,” he said, squeaking as Seto tugged him roughly to his feet. “It looks like a giant lotus.”

“Where are we?” Seto growled, long white cape swirling behind him as he swept the perimeter of the little clearing.

“This is the enchanted forest of Dynos,” Ryou said, carefully stepping around the throngs of snakes that flocked to his bare feet. He worried a lock of soft white hair and squinted at the waist-high flower bud. “But _that_ isn’t supposed to be here.”

“We ain’t supposed to be here either,” Jounouchi said, taking a long stride toward the pod.

“Wait,” Yuugi said, stepping into the clearing, scepter raised. He flicked his violet eyes to Ryou, who hovered behind Seto at the mouth of the clearing. “I have the highest wisdom points. Let me skill check and I’ll scan it?”

“I’m not too sure how we’re going to do that,” Ryou said with a shrug. He lifted his slim white hands, palm-up. “No dice.”

“This is freakin crazy,” Jounouchi said. He looked to Kaiba, cheeks puffed with the effort of thinking. “What do we do?”

“Why are you asking me,” Kaiba scoffed. He tipped his white-crowned head at Yuugi. “This occult nonsense is more his purview.”

“No, no, no,” Jounouchi said. “That stuff’s a million years behind us. This’s gotta be some malfunction of holograms or some shit, you got projectors installed all around the city right? I mean did ya put a chip in my brain or somethin at that last physical? Tell me it’s a computer glitch.”

Ryou ran his fingers along the rough, peeling bark of a nearby willow and let out a trembling exhale.

“No, this is real,” he said. “Feel it. You can _smell_ it. It’s really real.”

“Impossible,” Kaiba huffed. He kicked at a lichen-covered rock with his heavy white boot and winced at the painful recoil. “This isn’t Solid Vision.”

“Shh,” Yuugi said, eyes fixed on the slow shift of the giant blue bud. “Something’s happening.”

They all turned to watch as the flower spun and shifted, its many nested petals unfolding like slicked new butterfly wings, brilliant blue and shining in the speckled sunlight. It was lit from within, gold and glowing, and that same half-familiar hum cut the sound around them. They shielded their eyes against the eldritch glow, breath caught as a silhouette coalesced in the dwindling gleam.

With the crown of hair and the glow of the eyes, Atem’s form was unmistakable. 

“O-other...me...” Yuugi gasped.

Resplendent in his ceremonial gold, crowned head high and purple robe billowing, Atem smiled. The puzzle glinted bright against the bare skin of his chest.

“Aibou,” he said fondly, hand reaching up to gently cup Yuugi’s cheek.

Jounouchi staggered closer, mouth agape.

“Is it really you man? After all these years?”

“It’s me,” Atem said, turning his mauve eyes to Jounouchi. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Ryou canted his head, eyes sad and distant. He didn’t dare come near the pharaoh after, well...after he’d nearly destroyed them all.

Tears spilled down Yuugi’s cheeks as he surged forward, tucking his face into the crook of Atem’s neck. He held tight and breathed deep and prayed for the moment to last.

“I missed you. God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Aibou,” Atem said, cradling Yuugi’s head to his chest.

It was seven or eight meters from the center of the clearing to the trail’s edge where Seto stood, but the low rumble of his voice carried like a war drum.

“ _Yuugi_.”

Atem lifted his chin, almond eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile and turning, at last, to meet Seto’s steely blue.

“Kaiba.”

The word—so ridiculous, so distant, a patronymic that wasn’t even his by birth, and yet, in the velvet baritone of that voice, in the heat of those lips—it was enough to shatter Seto’s last remnants of control. He broke into a run, long limbs carrying him across the clearing in a few loping strides, and nearly knocked the mirrored forms of his once and current lovers off balance with the force of his possessive embrace.

“How dare you wait so long to show yourself,” he rasped, drinking in the incense and firesmoke smell of Atem’s hair.

“If this is a dream,” Yuugi said, clutching desperately at Seto and Atem’s arms, “please don’t let me wake up until it’s done.”

“It’s not quite a dream,” Atem said. He pulled back just enough so that he could look them both in the face. Yuugi, flushed and big soulful eyes shining with tears, Seto’s blue eyes swirling with dark need and raw, aching devotion, it all made something warm and electric well up in Atem’s chest. Something so deep and so powerful that he was vibrating with it, with the desperate way they clung to him, the way they breathed him in like precious air and drank in his wine-dark eyes and the desert-night smell of him, it simmered higher and higher till he felt it in the tips of his fingers, till he was practically vibrating with it.

“Oh god,” Jounouchi said, as the ground trembled. “That ain’t good.”

The world around them splintered and cracked, bursting with golden light.

“This feels...ominous,” Ryou said as a crack in the earth beneath his feet uplit him in orange.

“Aibou,” Atem said, fear pricking at his insides. “Hold tight, I—“

“I’ve got you,” Seto said, pulling them both tight against his chest as the world around them disintegrated.

A booming, dark voice split the chaos like a thunderclap, mad laughter echoing godlike across the endless plane of white light; it was the last thing they heard before the world went dark.

-

“...ba...”

His head was throbbing.

“...iba...”

His hands were cold and shaking, pulse pounding in his ears as his senses slowly returned.

“...Kaiba, wake u...”

He blinked his eyes open, wincing at how dry and raw they felt. There were wide, warm hands on his shoulders. One of them swept up his neck to gently cup his cheek.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake.”

Seto bristled. He was sprawled out on an unfamiliar floor, an unfamiliar ceiling above him. And beside him, entirely too close, was Jounouchi Katsuya.

“Get away from me,” he growled, slapping away Jounouchi’s arm. He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face.

Jounouchi sat back on his haunches, hands draped elegantly over his knees. There was something...off about him. He was collected, poised; he radiated cool control, and the amber-brown of his eyes was unusually bright and piercing. There was something _knowing_ there, something clever and hot. He was starting very intently at Seto, the weight of his focus unnerving almost—

Seto blanched.

—almost intimidating.

“Impossible,” he mumbled.

“Let me get you some water,” Jounouchi said, but his voice was all wrong. His voice was dark and resonant and his posture as he crossed Ryou’s small apartment was impeccably, almost regally straight.

“Impossible,” Seto said as he dragged himself upright. He lowered himself carefully onto Ryou’s couch, feeling returning slowly to his extremities. He could see into the kitchen where Jounouchi was pouring two tall glasses of water.

Seto had never given much thought to Jounouchi before (the boy was _appallingly_ straight). But something in the confident way he bore himself now invited the discerning eye. He wasn’t bad looking. Well-built, strong but lean, with composed, symmetrical features. Not quite ruggedly handsome, more wholesome than powerful, more sweet than sexy. Seto swallowed, throat suddenly tight and dry. He was wearing the puzzle.

“ _Impossible_ ,” he whispered, eyes wide, as Jounouchi turned and fixed him with a coy, heated smile, eyes sharp and dancing with challenge.

“You were out for a few minutes,” Jounouchi said, handing him the glass of water.

“And you,” Seto said, taking a careful sip. “You were gone for eight years.”

Jounouchi leaned in close, and Seto felt the strangest mix of guilt and excitement at the bubblegum-and-old spice smell of him, so boyish and unfamiliar, clashing loud but consonant with the sultry, confident smirk.

“I’m here now.”

“Where is Yuugi?”

Jounouchi looked down at the puzzle. He cupped it protectively.

“I’m fairly certain they’re up A’aru with Mahad. They’ll return when the ritual ends. And so will I.”

Seto made a pained noise.

“Seto,” Jounouchi said, leaning closer. “I’m here now.”

“So you are,” Seto breathed, a hair’s breadth away from Jounouchi’s chapped, parted lips.

Atem, in Jounouchi’s body, closed the distance.

-

Ryou rubbed his pale hands together, steeling himself against the cold and dark of the room.

“Hm. Just a little bit more.”

He’d been locked in soul rooms before. He was no stranger to the tricks and pitfalls of such places. He even had a few tricks of his own.

“Concentrate, breathe and...yes!”

He cupped an orange flame in his palms, satisfied by the light and heat it gave off. He lifted one hand and concentrated his will, and a wooden torch handle materialized in his grip. He pushed the flame onto the torch head and turned to survey the room.

“Oh goodness,” he said to himself as he kneeled down next to Yuugi’s prone body. He gave Yuugi’s shoulder a gentle shove.

“Hey. Hey there. Wake up.”

Yuugi stirred and rubbed at his eyes.

“Bakura...where are we?”

Ryou helped Yuugi to his feet and canted his head.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“ _You’re not in Domino anymore, that’s for damn sure_ ,” echoed a voice from the ceiling.

Ryou startled and nearly dropped the torch. Yuugi spun, eyes darting around the dimly-lit room, all stonework and marble floors, cool and foreboding, dripping with mystery and a cavernous dark.

“I know this place,” he said, voice shaking.

“I know that voice,” Ryou replied. He bit his lip to keep himself from smiling—it was just nerves, he told himself. The jumpy, excited, butterfly feeling in his guts was just nerves.

“ _Since we’re stuck here together,_ ” the voice said with a dangerous lilt. “ _Would you like to play a game?_ ”

“Yes,” Ryou breathed, knuckles white as he gripped the torch tighter in clammy, shaking hands.

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Yuugi said. “What are we playing?”

“ _Manhunt_ ,” said the voice from the ceiling. _“The rules are simple. Find me before I find you.”_

“And the prize?” Ryou said.

The both of them flinched at the peal of dark laughter that followed.

“ _Your lives._ ”

-

“So that’s a pomegranate, huh?” Jounouchi said, chewing thoughtfully. The taste was tart and heady, but not unpleasant. He figured it paired pretty well with his new clothes, a linen kilt and shawl embroidered with a flowing water pattern along the hem. Which definitely paired well with the luxurious stone pool, filled as it was with beautiful, half-naked women.

“Now try this,” Mahad said, holding out a plate of figs. “On this side of the river, they’re always in season. Always.”

Jounouchi plucked one of the little fruits from the plate and chewed it with relish. 

“Not bad. Kinda weird but not bad,” he said, smiling. If this was what being dead was like, he could totally work with it.

“We can check in on them again in a little while,” Mahad said, deftly sectioning an orange.

Jounouchi made a sour face and rolled his eyes.

“No thanks. I don’t know if I want my body back after what we already saw, and I definitely don’t wanna see whatever happened after that.”

Mahad laughed, remembering the stricken face Jounouchi made when they first peeked down at the lost king and his reincarnated priest tangled together on a wide desk in Kaiba’s home laboratory.

“You’re funny. I like you,” he said. “But it’s not your time yet. Much as I’d like to keep you here, you’ll have to go back. We need to have him back here if we’re going to send the vessels back there. And we can’t pull him back unless you return. Equivalent exchange and all that.”

Jounouchi held up a date to the supernatural sun, examining its glossy skin. He shrugged and popped it in his mouth.

“Where are they, anyways?”

Mahad clicked his tongue.

“I suppose we should find out, hmm?”

-

The manor was quiet and dark, the whir of stacks and stacks of servers in the adjacent room the only sound apart from their heavy breathing. Atem slipped his borrowed hand up under Seto’s shirt, palming his rippling abs. Seto growled and threaded his long fingers up into Atem’s—Jounouchi’s—blonde hair and tugged until their lips met parted and hot, tongues darting out to—

 _Thirsty much? What, no concubines for the king in A’aru_?

“Oh no,” Atem said, pulling back sharply.

_I swear to every god from Sumer to Siberia I will rain hell on all you hold dear if I have to watch you suck the priest’s di—_

“Oh no,” he repeated, reaching for the puzzle instinctively. “Not you.”

_—again._

“What’s wrong,” Seto said, blue eyes half-lidded and dark with need.

_Yes, me. You thought you got rid of me, huh?_

“It’s Bakura,” Atem said, raking a hand through his blonde hair.

_That’s Bakura, King of Thieves to you. Here’s some advice from one king to another: grow some taste._

“Bakura? Your friend? The dungeon master?”

“He’s inside my head,” Atem said.

_It’s worse than that._

The thief king’s dark laughter sent goosebumps up Atem’s arms.

_I’m in your soul._

Atem grit his teeth.

“Bakura the thief king. The one we fought in my memory world.”

Seto scowled and straightened.

“How?”

_Go ahead, try and explain it to him._

“His soul was attached to a piece of the puzzle,” Atem said, brown eyes thoughtful and distant. “It’s complicated, and...occult.”

Seto pursed his lips and frowned, appearing in his moment of vexedness like a pouting, six-foot-three kitten.

_I could forgive you many ills for putting that stupid fucking look on the priest’s face._

“Explain it all to me as clearly and thoroughly as possible,” Seto said, face grave. “I’ll decide how occult it is.”

_Look at him, he thinks he can reason out the dark power of the shadows._

The spirit that now occupied the puzzle laughed his mad, unhinged laugh. Atem cleared his throat, careful not to laugh along.

“Okay. It started three thousand years ago when your father found a book of spells ...”

-

They walked the dark, meandering stone halls arm-in-arm, huddled close for warmth. Yuugi held the torch out in front of them, casting a golden circle of light in front of them as they searched the endless chambers and sprawling, twisting stairs.

“It’s so cold here,” Ryou said. “It’s even colder than the inside of the ring.”

Yuugi chewed his lip and tried another door.

“The other me was a secretive person,” he said, closing the door on empty darkness. “He held a lot of pain, and I think he wanted to hide it. Even from himself.”

Ryou smiled sadly.

“I understand that. It wasn’t so different for him...for my—“

“ _Your what, my dear little landlord?_ ” came the voice from above.

The two of them stopped dead, clinging to one another even tighter than before.

“Where are you hiding?” Ryou said, face turned up toward the sound—though ‘up’ was a fickle thing in the directionless maze of the puzzle.

_“If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a game, now, would it?”_

Ryou slipped his arm from Yuugi’s grasp and squared his shoulders.

“Enough,” he said, closing his eyes. They all had tricks, those who dwelled in soul rooms, but Ryou had accumulated quite a few. He’d had to, to survive his long exile inside the spirit of the ring.

“I’m done playing games,” he said, eyes still closed. “I forfeit—“

_“Your life? And his?”_

Yuugi stepped close behind him, and the heat of the torch flared against his bare arms, prickling hot over the scar the spirit had given him years ago.

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” Ryou said, eyes still closed. “You’re not that powerful.”

A mad laugh boomed from the ceiling.

“Bakura, please” Yuugi said, gripping his wrist.

“Do you trust me?” Ryou said, slotting his slim fingers between Yuugi’s. He held tight and squeezed.

“I trust you,” Yuugi said, squeezing back.

“Close your eyes,” Ryou said. “Don’t open them till I say so.”

“Ok,” Yuugi said, voice small and tight but resolute. “I’ll follow your lead.”

 _“You’re both fools_ ,” said the voice. “ _But I’m happy to claim my prize now.”_

“Play time is over,” Ryou said, voice raised and cracking. “You win, Bakura king of thieves, last living son of the village of Kul Elna.”

A hot, dry wind blew past them, whipping their hair and peppering their skin with grating bits of sand. The force of the wind snuffed out the torch, and would have blown them both over, but Ryou held tight to Yuugi’s hand and Yuugi threw his weight against Ryou’s shoulder, and together they stood in the gale.

“Seems you grew a spine since I last saw you,” said a dark, gravelly voice.

Ryou’s breath hitched.

“I’d be more annoyed if it didn’t suit you so, my dear landlord.”

“Now,” Ryou whispered, standing to his full height.

They opened their eyes on a sunbaked hut with an earthen floor, open to the elements. Palms bent heavy with leaves in the stretch of sand behind the hut, and beyond that, the hint of a riverbank.

“It’s you,” Ryou said, trembling faintly.

Before them, in royal red, dripping with gold—shorter than Yuugi remembered, not much taller than Atem, with the same sun-browned skin and dangerous, crackling aura—stood the king of thieves.

“Oh my god,” Yuugi said, violet eyes wide.

He was nothing like the spirit of the ring, and yet he was. He had none of the spirit’s hard edges and cruel, dark eyes; his eyes were violet-gray and rimmed in thick, dark lashes and full of an ancient sadness. The jagged white scar that bisected his right eye did little to age his boyish face, nor did the wild, silver-white hair. He was haughty and darkly magnetic with his chin tipped up and his thick arms crossed over his bare, scar-streaked chest.

“Now, as promised,” he said. He reached out with one work-worn hand to grip a chunk of hair behind Ryou’s ear and tugged until Ryou stumbled forward, meek with shock. “I’ll claim my prize.”

-

“Get in the pod,” Seto said as he splayed his big hands wide on Atem’s chest—broad now in Jounouchi’s body—and pushed. The dimension-hopper launch capsule was charged and on standby, waiting only for its pilots.

“I won’t.”

Seto scowled. He’d managed to wrestle Atem into a dimension-stabilizing bodysuit, and had him fitted for a dimension disk and headset. But now, at the last, the stubborn king was refusing the launch.

“Get. In. The _pod_.” Seto growled.

“This plan is insane,” Atem said, eyes hard and narrowed. “I won’t let you hurt yourself just because you think you’re smarter than the gods who created you.”

Atem stood firm, glad for Jounouchi’s strength. He wasn’t quite a match for Seto, but Jounouchi’s height and natural athleticism at least gave Atem a fighting chance to resist.

“Get in the pod, or I’ll go without you,” Seto said, and the set of his jaw brooked no argument.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Atem said. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just force your way in. It’s my _soul_ , Kaiba.”

“I forced my way into A’aru,” Kaiba said, lifting his chin just so he could stare down his nose at Atem. “This is the same technology. Now that I can analyze the puzzle while it’s active, I can calibrate the launch to the realm within.”

“Within my immortal soul,” Atem said, eyes narrowing. “It’s an endless maze that defies physics, and there are traps and monsters lurking behind every door. You could lose yourself in there.”

“Ridiculous. Lose myself?” Seto said. He lifted his broad, long-fingered hand to cup Atem’s cheek. “In you?”

He tipped his head down to catch Atem’s lips, quick but heated.

“I’ve been lost in you for _years_.”

Atem warmed at the raspy break in Seto’s rich voice.

“Kaiba...”

“He’s in there,” Seto said, eyes hardening. He curled his hand around the puzzle that hung from Atem’s neck. “I can feel him.”

Atem winced. Amid the chaotic threads of emotion (sex-death-grief-violence-play-mischief-vengeance-hunger-need) that he could feel from the puzzle were faint whispers of violet light, suppressed, hidden—perhaps by his own trap doors—but undeniably Yuugi.

“He needs us. I won’t leave him in there with that murderer,” Seto said.

“Fine,” Atem said, letting himself be gently pushed back into the cockpit of the launch pod. “Together.”

The electronic whir of the cockpit as Seto brought it out of standby dulled the heartbeat thunder in Atem’s ears. He willed himself to relax, to bend to Seto’s lead. Seto, brilliant and capable and fiercely determined, so determined that he would bend reality itself to achieve his aim. And right now, his aim was locked on Yuugi.

“Countdown,” Seto said, fingers blurring over the command pad. “In five, four, three, two...”

-

Mahad slipped the crystal ball from its silk cover and set it gingerly on one of the many embroidered pillows that were strewn about the pleasure chamber. He said a quick prayer to Thoth and rested his fingertips on the glowing orb.

“Oh no,” he said, squinting against the vision he received. “Oh gods, how? Why?”

He shook his head as though to clear the visions and worried at a lock of thick, straight hair.

“No, you idiots. That you could—no.”

“Yes?” Jounouchi said as he approached, a coconut in each hand. “I thought you liked coconut.”

“Cancel the fire dancers. Cancel the seven veils. Cancel the whole dinner,” Mahad said, standing with a furious swish of robes. He took the drink from Jounouchi and sipped it angrily. “We have to go save them.”

“Do we really gotta though?” Jounouchi said, slurping loudly from his own. “Like really?”

Mahad pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Yes. Unfortunately, we do.”

Jounouchi shrugged and chugged the last of what was left in his drink.

“Aright,” he said, wavering on his feet. Apparently he had not inherited his father’s constitution. “How’s this work, you do some kinda abracadabra and then what, we’re there?”

Mahad pulled his scepter from the ether and twirled it above his head.

“Something like that,” he said, swinging down so the tip cut a gash in the fabric of reality. He gestured to the spinning wormhole inside with an elegant swish of his hand. “After you.”

-

When the pod touched down, it was to a flash of protracted green lightning, eerily quiet, just the faint ruffle of static. Seto jumped from the cockpit and lurched instinctively at the figures that emerged, sure somehow that the bowed figure in tenth-dynasty robes and borrowed gold was the thief king. When he jerked the figure upright by the elbow and spun them around, he was shocked—and disappointed, and confused, and strangely aroused—to find Jounouchi, eyes glassy and cheeks pinked with wine.

“Sup,” Jounouchi said, grinning lazily. “You here for the showdown?”

“What are you—how did you—“ Seto stammered. He spun around to face the launch pod, jerking Jounouchi along with him. When a head of wild black and golden hair peeked up over the open plug door, they sighed in tandem and lurched forward, a tangle of lean limbs and angry elbows.

“Yuug!” Jounouchi said, stumbling.

But Atem wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were wide and bright with fury, and no sooner had he hit the ground in a catlike crouch than he surged forward, sprinting past them with his fists clenched.

“There he is,” Mahad said, gripping Seto’s shoulder to turn him toward the chaos behind.

With a chilly horror, Seto saw Yuugi’s prone body, sprawled on a patterned blanket on the sand, face slack and arms skewed, his hair a sandy, sweaty mess. He scanned the area, cataloguing the empty hut, the palm trees, Atem falling to his knees next to Yuugi’s still form. The thief king stood not a few feet away, broad back to them, looming, distracted, over the mussed and trembling Ryou. He had his rough, wide hand clamped around Ryou’s neck, a jeweled dagger under his rucked-up shirt, cutting the thing off with a vicious precision.

Seto moved without thinking, covering the scant distance with a few long-legged strides, and in a haze of violent instinct had the thief king under him, arms locked, face pressed into the sand as Seto restrained him by the wrists and hair. The dagger skidded across the packed earth, spinning to a stop at Jounouchi’s feet.

“What did you do!” Seto snarled, lifting up the thief king’s head just to slam it down again.

Ryou fell to his knees, eyes wide and welling with sudden tears. He inched forward on hands and knees, raising a pale, trembling hand.

“S-stop, Kaiba, wait.”

The thief king chuckled darkly, bucking under Seto’s iron hold.

“You think you’re in a position to laugh?” Seto said, squeezing the thief king’s wrists until the bones creaked.

“You’re the same as ever,” the thief king said, a smile in his voice. “But you’re not in Thebes anymore, you idiot. This isn’t your little toy Domino either.”

Mahad laid a steadying hand on Seto’s arm.

“Stay your hand, old friend,” he said.

“If you hurt him, I will end you,” Seto spat.

“Kaiba, you need to chill,” Jounouchi said, gripping at his other arm. “I think we’re all a little confused.”

Seto took a deep breath and flicked his eyes up to Ryou, whose lip was plump and swollen, whose eyes were glassy with tears, neck and exposed collarbones littered with bruises—small, mouth-shaped bruises, almost like...

“Are you all right?” he said, frowning.

“I’m fine, I’m—“ Ryou said, hands raised as though he was approaching a feral, cornered animal. His sad brown eyes flicked down to the thief king. “Can you just let him go?”

“Hey,” Yuugi said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Atem was wrapped around him like a cloak, chin tucked over his shoulder, gold-laden arms wrapped tight around his stomach. Kaiba cooled instantly at the image.

“What are you doing here?” Yuugi said. “What’s going on?”

“Thank god you’re all right,” Seto said, reaching up instinctively. Yuugi tumbled down into his arms and squeezed, and Seto felt the tension leech out slowly.

Hands free now, the thief pushed up with all his considerable strength, and it was nearly enough to throw Seto off.

“This is touching, but you two are fucking heavy,” he said.

Atem smiled fondly at the easy way his partner and once-rival breathed comfort into one another. He took each of them by the wrist and tugged until the three of them were standing, hands linked in a circle, together at last.

“Somebody explain why we’re in a soul room within a soul room,” Mahad said, tone bored. “We have about an hour before the ritual concludes and we all get snapped back to our respective realities.It’ll take me around forty-five minutes to untangle the threads of time you’ve all so ignorantly knotted up, so try and make it swift.”

“You left me in limbo, you stupid mage,” the thief said, dusting off his robes. He pulled Ryou up by the hair and draped a possessive arm around his shoulders. “I’ve been waiting for you to open the door again so I can finally go to hell.”

“To hell?” Ryou said, turning his big sad up to the thief king’s smiling face.

“Ah,” Atem said, wincing. “I thought, since you had merged with Zorc...”

“You thought wrong, o most holy king,” the thief said, rolling his eyes. He gripped Ryou’s chin roughly, wrenching his face up to steal a wet, aggressive, open-mouthed kiss. The others stared, stunned and a little aghast (and some, though they wouldn’t admit it, just a little bit hot), and waited as Ryou flailed and unfolded and gripped desperately at the thief king’s robes, till they finally parted with a gasp.

“But lo and behold,” the thief said, staring hungrily at Ryou’s kiss-plump lips, “you finally opened the door to the afterlife. I took it upon myself to have one last meal before my eternal damnation.”

“You were gonna eat him, huh?” Jounouchi said.

“In a manner of speaking,” the thief said.

“Deplorable,” Atem said.

“Oh god,” Ryou said, face red.

“Why were you laying on the ground?” Seto said, cupping Yuugi’s face. “I thought you were hurt.”

“I got tired of watching them make out,” Yuugi whispered.

“You aren’t damned,” Mahad said, tone tight and clipped. The paperwork he’d have to file on all this, shorthand or not, it cramped his hand just thinking about it. “The standing god-king slaughtered your kin to enslave the chaos power of the shadows. The _least_ we can do is see your soul past the jaws of Ammit with safety.”

“You’ll cross him over?” Ryou said, eyes bright. “So I can finally channel him when I...when I miss him?”

“You miss _him_?” Jounouchi said, slack-jawed, gesturing with his open hand at the thief’s...everything.

Ryou huffed and made a face like Jounouchi had asked something foolish.

“I do not recommend channeling spirits with advanced mastery of the shadows, no,” Mahad said. “But from a theoretical standpoint, it’s possible.”

He clapped his hands and his scepter appeared from the ether.

“Now,” he said, “can you all cooperate so I can ensure you don’t end up bodily split between dimensions?”

“Wait a minute,” the thief said, shoving his index finger at Atem. “You understand me, don’t you. You only just got to see them. Don’t act like you’re ready to run back over the reeds so soon.”

Atem looked down into the soft violet of Yuugi’s kind, warm eyes, then up into Seto’s cool, stormy blue.

“What I wan’t doesn’t matter,” he said tightly. “We can’t extend the ritual from here.”

“Who says we have to,” the thief said, thrusting his fist out between them. He uncurled his fingers, revealing a tiny, jeweled hourglass. “This is my soul room, it plays by my rules.”

“Mahad?” Atem said, canting his head.

Mahad sighed. _The paperwork_ , he thought with a wince.

“Two turns,” he said. “No more than two hours.”

“I’ll take that,” Ryou said, shifting impatiently against the thief’s body.

“Let’s go back to the pod,” Seto said, laying either hand on the back of Atem and Yuugi’s necks.

“Well shit,” Jounouchi said, waggling his eyebrows at Mahad. “Drinks on you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of staying here sober,” Mahad said, summoning an entire barrel of meade.

“You gonna be all right with all the, y’know, time threads or whatever,” Jounouchi said as he happily uncorked the barrel.

“Gods,” Mahad said, summoning two deep cups. “Probably.”

He filled the cups with a wave of his hand and turned to watch the god-king hoist himself up into the narrow cockpit of the strange ship they arrived in. Atem was literally glowing, bright with happiness. Mahad felt himself smile.

“To you, friend,” he said, turning back to Jounouchi. “Here’s hoping I don’t see you again for a very long time.”

“Is that like a ‘to my health’ or somethin?” Jounouchi said. “Right back atcha, my guy.”

They clinked glasses and drank—probably longer than is strictly normal—and tried (and failed) to ignore a dark ripple of laughter, and the soft, breathy giggle that followed.

-

The snap back to Domino was like waking from a falling dream—only, perhaps owing to Mahad’s slight inebriation, the four of them were actually falling.

Thankfully, it was from a short height, and onto Seto’s plush, expansive bed.

“Shit,” Jounouchi said, squirming under Yuugi’s modest weight. “Huh. I thought my ass would hurt.”

Seto spared him a chilly glance.

“You’re an idiot.”

”Well you’re a bastard,” Jounouchi clipped.

“Actually, he’s a bottom,” Yuugi giggled.

“Put a damn shirt on,” Seto said, pushing Ryou off his lap. “Bottom drawer on the left.”

“You’re sure?” Ryou said, rubbing at the gruesome-looking hickeys blooming on his chest.

“Yes,” Seto grumbled, blue eyes narrowed and hazy still. “You look...obscene.”

“I _feel_ obscene,” Yuugi said with a satisfied sigh.

“I’m gonna hurl,” Jounouchi said, stumbling toward the bathroom.

Ryou slipped off the bed to rifle through Seto’s clothes, and Seto took the opportunity to drag Yuugi up and on top of him. He draped his arms around the other man with a contented sigh, and melted boneless into the silk duvet.

“Do you think that’s what heaven’s gonna be like?” Yuugi said, combing his fingers through Seto’s sweat-damp hair.

“Shh,” Seto said, slipping his hand down to settle in the small of Yuugi’s back. “I can’t bear any more occult nonsense for at least another week.

“Um, speaking of,” Ryou said, standing awkwardly in a comically oversized blue sweater. “Same time next week?”

“Absolutely not,” Seto growled. “If I never see another tabletop RPG in my life, I’ll be glad.”

Yuugi fixed him with purple puppy eyes and pushed out his full lower lip.

“We’ll...meet here next week,” Seto said, somewhat deflated. “And play VR games like men.”

Yuugi made a pleased sound, something high and happy and just a little too earnest for polite company. Ryou smiled and fluffed at his messy hair.

“Sounds great. I’ll, uh...I’ll see myself out.”

Seto palmed Yuugi’s thighs, shifting him gently until he could rock his hips up into the plush curve of Yuugi’s ass. Yuugi smiled, coy and clever, eyes blown dark as he looked Seto up and down.

“You were incredible,” Seto breathed, sliding his hands up to grip Yuugi’s waist. “I don’t think I’ll ever shake the image of the two of you on your knees with that look on your faces like—“

“God, my head hurts,” Jounouchi said, trudging out of the bathroom. “You got some Advil or somethin, Kaiba? Oh, shit, uh—”

“Go,” Seto said. “Downstairs. Ask Isono.”

“Who?” Jounouchi said, backing toward the door.

“Just. Get out.”

“Ooooookay, got it,” Jounouchi said, fumbling as he slipped out of the bedroom.

Yuugi turned and called over his shoulder, “Game night’s here next week, Jounouchi!”

When the door to the bedroom finally closed, Seto let out a frustrated sigh. Yuugi cupped his cheek, brushed the bangs from his eyes and smiled.

“You were saying...?”

-

_Six months later_

Seto checked the batteries on the VR kits and loaded in the most recent save file, then laid back as the digital world materialized around them.

The four of them walked down a simulated jungle trail in a loose line, counting their potions and munitions. Seto took point, Jounouchi the rear—they had the best stats should an enemy ambush.

Ryou hummed as he went through the satchel at his hip, counting out the spells and mana in his registry.

“You’re in a good mood,” Yuugi said, tightening his chest armor.

“Mhm,” Ryou said dreamily. “I had a seance last night.”

“Oh, um, that’s...nice,” Yuugi said, biting his lip to stifle a laugh.

A crackle of green lightning singed a circle of dense undergrowth, and the four of them staggered back from the shockwave that followed.

“...insane, you can’t possibly think we’ll get away with it.” came a rich but harried voice. “I want to, believe me, but—“

“Look around, you pompous little midget,” said a rough voice in reply. “It worked.”

Cloaked in burglar black, their hands locked tight around a scepter that looked suspiciously like Mahad’s, stood Atem and the king of thieves.

“Uh...sup guys,” Jounouchi said.

“Landlord,” the thief said, grinning darkly.

“Other me!” Yuugi said, eyes bright.

Seto eyed the thief and the god-king with an apprehensive reserve.

“How long before he notices?” he said.

“Probably...half an hour,” Atem said.

“No time to waste, then,” Seto said, drawing him close.

Jounouchi tied his sash over his eyes and counted to twenty, hoping they all had the decency to at least move out of earshot this time. He tried to console himself with the images of white marble pools and plates of fruits that are always ripe. Where was his angel from the afterlife? Probably waiting in one of those pools.

He felt a rush of wind at his side, and at the familiar scent of incense, he grinned.

“You’re quick, ain’t ya?”

Mahad sighed.

“I’m surrounded by fools,” he said. “Clowns. Jokers.”

“That includes me don’t it? Well, if I gotta be stuck here, I’m glad I’m not alone,” Jounouchi said, slipping the sash up to expose one eye.

Mahad made a gesture like a toast, and suddenly there were drinks.

“To being stuck in the middle with you,” Mahad said.

“I’ll drink to that,” Jounouchi said with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> I took the prompts you sent and tried to fit as many of the things you like into one fic as I possibly could. I hope I hit the mark!! <3 I love your Ryou, so I hope that he especially came out right.


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